


Does Batman Fuck Robin?

by 3White_Mage3



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc views his relationship with his son as one would a firefight or a battle - something requiring strategy and tactics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does Batman Fuck Robin?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm neither fluent enough nor proficient enough in the fanfic lexicon to know whether this is a drabble, a ficlet or a pornlette or whatever, but here it is. Another quick, relatively g-rated glimpse into the wonder which is Herc/Chuck.

"Do you think Batman fucks Robin?"

Herc is sitting at the breakfast table TRYING to process the more pertinent headlines in the sports section while using several cups of coffee to begin harnessing the energy he's gonna need for another day when his son's question comes ripping through the relative quiet of the early morning.

Correctly interpreting this abrupt and out of the blue inquiry as Chuck's latest attempt to get a rise out of him (why should this particular morning be any different and be a quiet, sedate one, after all) -- and having seen enough evidence through the Drift as well as his laptop's viewing history to know that his son isn't exactly inhibited in his view of sex -- Herc wisely falls back on tradition and chooses to ignore the salvo in the hopes this current uncomfortable situation will just go away.

Of course it doesn't. And he might possibly have made the tactical error of giving his opponent enough time to marshal resources and recommit to the battle.

An unnecessarily loud slam of his refilled coffee cup on the tabletop is accompanied by, "Well, old man, do you?"

Since strategy one, Ignore and Hope It Goes Away, has failed spectacularly once again, Herc adapts his defense strategy rapidly and launches what he'll call Typical Tactic Two: he closes his eyes, sighs, and feigns ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oi, even a geezer like you should know who Batman is, yeah? And his 'side kick'" (this said with actual finger gestures making air quotes and Chuck's typical leer). "The young guy who runs around in too-tight short shorts and shows off his great ass."

Herc comes to the quick, unnerving realization that it's still too early in the morning and he hasn't had NEARLY enough coffee yet to even consider coming up with a third tactic, let alone a battle-winning strategy, and so decides to put his cards right on the table and get this over as quickly as possible. "You're right, I should have clarified. I didn't mean to state that I don't know who Batman is. I should have said, 'I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!' Now can you please get your head out of your arse, give your old man a moment's peace, and be set to leave in 10 minutes?"

With a grin of general satisfaction since he's achieved half his goal -- he's gotten his father's attention and raised his blood pressure, all by 7:30 am so a good day's work already -- Chuck leaves to go put his boots on and finalize the rest of his plan.

***

Two months later it's Chuck's seventeenth birthday, which just happens to coincide with the American holiday of Halloween. Over the years the US contingent's party held every October 31 has grown steadily and now pulls in more and more partygoers from throughout the Dome until it has become a really anticipated date on the calendar. Yet another valid reason for the pilots, the techies and everyone else to relax for just a few hours and let their hair down through the time-honored tradition of too much booze.

When Herc sees Chuck's choice for costumes for this year, obviously ordered off the internet several weeks prior in time to make it for the party, he groans. He immediately enters analysis mode, estimating the human casualties (himself, specifically his blood pressure and dignity), weapons expenditure and resources commitments vis-a-vis the anticipated optimal outcome. And he even briefly -- briefly -- considers protesting, but opting instead to dig out his rapidly depleting bottle of scotch from behind the never-used dictionary on the bookshelf and get an early start on the night's many libations. 

In less than 90 minutes he finds himself in a nut-crunching, embarrassingly revealing grey and blue outfit while his son fairly preens, dancing around nearby in a red vest, gold cape and a pair of super tight, super short green trunks which, Herc can't fail to notice, make Chuck's ass look fantastic. 

Several hours, lots of drinks, and a few not-so-subtle comments by Chuck along the lines of, "wow, those trunks make your junk look HUGE, old man" later and the question can be definitively answered: Yes, Batman fucks Robin.


End file.
